Crazy Music
by Divegirl
Summary: COMPLETE! A famous violinist/saxophone player begins a serious series of seizures. Say that three times fast! She had been passed around from doctor to doctor, and nobody was able to figure out what's wrong with her...Except for Dr. Gregory House.
1. Prologue:

Prologue:

Music filled the hallways of the concert hall. Chamber music and violas sung in the hall. It was a straight A note. They were just warming up. Tuning, as some called it. Reeds were wet, strings were tightened, and voices warmed up. People were getting ready. Getting ready for the best saxophone player in all of the Northeast United States.

The conductor entered the large, intimidating hall and called for attention from the orchestra and choir. They were silenced by a wave of his long, skinny baton.

"Now," Called the conductor. "Let us give a warm welcome to our guest saxophonist, Miss Massé." Applause thundered, even though it was only the performing group that was in the hall. The show wasn't to start for another half-hour. They still had time to rehearse with the star.

She made her way elegantly down the isle in-between the rows of soft, comfortable seats. The audience would like them very much. That, and the music of course.

The applause rang louder and louder still as Miss Massé drew near to the stage. Finally, she bowed, and the applause slowed to a stop. The applause was just echoing in Massé's head now.

Massé set her case down on a seat, soft and red as all the others, and opened it, drawing out her beautiful, wooden violin.

"Excuse me, Miss Massé," Piped the conductor, whose voice was quite low for a man of his young age. "I had understood that you would be joining the symphony with your saxophone. Did I understand incorrectly?"

"Oh, but I am so good at both, why not just play the violin. Besides, I felt like playing it today anyway. Now, where is my seat?" She turned her head and jogged up the steps to the stage, reaching for an empty seat near the front.

"What are you doing?" Asked one of the bass players, with anger and concern in his voice.

"Moving this chair to the front," Massé replied, without even thinking.

"But that is my seat," Chirped the harpist, who was just wheeling in her harp from off stage that very minute. Miss Massé didn't seem to notice the slightly obese woman, although she was hard to not look at.

Massé dragged the chair to the center front, facing the conductor's stand. She didn't seem worried that she was messing up the whole performance at all!

The choir rehearsed, the microphones were tested, and the French horns, violas and basses were tuned and practiced. All that was left to do was the performance itself.

The time came for the choir and the symphony to get into their places for the entrance. People from all over the state and even farther had gathered outside the large, heavy doors to the hall, hoping that they could get their seats fast. Get the best seats faster than he person next to them could.

People began to file into the concert hall as the ushers opened the doors and told them where to sit.

When the hall was filled up to the capacity, and many more people hung outside of the doors just to listen, the show began. The lights were turned on and shone on the stage, the performers entered through stage right and stage left. The choir came in shortly after the brass section, and the applause sounded.

After two pieces, the conductor introduced the guest star.

"And now, without further ado, Miss Massé on the sax- I mean, on the violin!"

Confused mumbles rang out through the audience, followed by loud and thunderous applause as the star came out on stage. She bowed, violin in hand, and took her place in center front, right next to the conductor. She propped her violin under her chin as the conductor raised his baton, and the hall went quiet.

Music filled the auditorium, and the violin played loudly. She had been practicing for years for this.

After three pieces, which seemed so short to Massé, she had her long solo piece. She began the song on her own, until the harp and choir came in. They sounded like angels singing in Heaven.

The faster part of the piece came, where the bow of the violin looked a blur to the audience. It was hard for the chorus to keep up with her expert talent.

She played and played, fingers moving like lightning across the sky, there then disapperaring to another place on the neck of the violin. She tossed her long luxurious hair as she felt the wave of music crash over her. Then she shook. She shook so violently that her music ran twice as fast.

The audience was amazed, thinking that it was just the performance, but they hadn't noticed that the rest of the orchestra had stopped playing and the conductor looked dumbfounded.

A woman in her late forties, maybe, came running up the isle towards the stage.

"Is there a nurse in the audience?" She called out through the echoing hall, which produced nobody.

"Ma'am, what are you doing?" cried the frightened conductor. The woman was putting Massé on the floor of the stage. She was shaking rapidly.

"Saving her life!" Cried the woman. She pulled a card out of her pants pocket and held it up to the conductor as she tried to steady the woman.

"Lisa Cuddy?" Asked the conductor.


	2. Chapter 1:

Chapter 1:

"Thirty-year old musician, multiple years of medical problems, starting with fainting at rehearsals and loss of sight and smell for periods of time. Could be a liver failure, or Petit Mal seizures." There were six doctors walking down a hallway, one of which was holding a slim, purple chart. They were following a limping man with a cane, and the man made a smart remark.

"Anything else besides fainting and seizures that could show us that she has liver failure?" The doctor asked, his cane landing loudly on the floor of the hospital.

"Uh, now, but it could be petit mal seizures-"

"In a woman in her thirties?" Asked one of the female doctors.

"Now you're thinking, Dr. Cameron!" Said the limping man with sarcasm. His ID tag swung from side to side as he continued to limp along. It read,

_Doctor Gregory House, MD_

"But, she could have a disorder-"

"That hasn't been found yet? Nice thinking, smarty." The grumpy Doctor House added, and he turned the corner into a large lobby, filled with nurses and patients, and the sound of coughing.

"What are you doing here?" Asked one of the doctors, named Kutner.

"Gee, you really haven't been here that long, have you?" the grumpy doctor said, swinging open one of the doors.

'CLINIC'

"So what seems to be the problem?" Asked House, sitting down on the rolling stool next to the exam bed.

"Well, I haven't been able to sleep very well, and I just can't seem to stop fidgeting. I think that I might have insomnia," The middle-aged woman said, looking around the room. "Wow, you'd never think that an exam room would be so white. I thought that it would be spattered with blood and stuff," She looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting a giant liver to fall on her head from being squished to the roof.

"Yeah, those interns do a good job of cleaning all the blood off the walls. Takes them three hours every night." House seemed to not notice that he was scaring his part-time patient.

"Well, do I or don't I?" Asked the woman, seeming to be anxious about being in the room.

"I don't think you do." He looked down at the chart, and squinted his eyes to read the small print. "It says here that you have ADHD, is this correct?" House looked up at the woman, his eyes struggling to focus.

"ADH-what?" She asked.

"I guess that you don't know that you do. Let me ask you. Do you like movies?"

"What does that have to do with my insomnia?"

"Just answer the question!" House yelped, beginning to get impatient.

"Yes. I really like the one where…Oh, what is it called, Indiana Jones! Yeah! And I _really_ like the part where they rip out the guy's heart and the guy eats it!"

"Sounds gross," House added, egging her on.

"Oh, yeah it is! It is just, like, gross, you know?"

"Yeah, you have ADHD. Have you been taking any medications?" House asked, looking down at the chart.

"Just Ambien CR, the stuff that makes you fall asleep and some Motrin when I feel achy. Is that a problem?"

"No, but I am going to get you some other pills. Now, these are called Adderall. They make you less…crazy." He got up, steadied himself with his cane and made his way out of the exam room.

"About that movie!" The girl hollered as House slammed the door behind him.

"God, I can't stand that disease!" He hobbled over to the pharmacy in the lobby, asked for a bottle of Adderall in exam room three, and then made his way back to his office. His clinic duty was over for about ten minutes. That is, if Cuddy didn't find him first!

000000

House was listening to music inside of his office when he heard the glass door open and slam shut.

"You are a lousy doctor, House!" Cried the entering woman. Her black curly hair bounded as she pounded her fists onto his desk.

"Who, me?" He turned around without even caring that she was there. He seemed unfazed.

"Yes, you! You don't even examine this woman, and decide to give her a dangerous drug that could kill her!"

"It's not that dangerous. I prescribe it all the time!"

"Did you even read her chart?"

"That thing? It's thicker than the PDR! And you know that I wouldn't read that,"

"Yes. But you could have at least read the medications list. And if you did, you would have realized that Adderall, taken with her other meds, can give her liver failure!"

"Great! Two liver failures at the same time. Now we can see who dies first!"

"Do you even care that you put your patient's life in jeopardy?"

"She's not my patient! She's some idiot's patient! And the idiot that calls himself a doctor isn't even able to diagnose her with a disease that many uneducated and undedicated people would be able to diagnose!"

"House!" She warned. She looked at him in that way that made House want to terrorize her more.

"Oh, right. How sexist of me! It definitely could have been a woman too. More likely a woman than a man."

It was then that the lumbering, ridiculing doctor turned his chair around and picked up his enlarged tennis ball that helped him think. He tossed it from hand to hand for a moment while the stunned doctor Cuddy stared in astonishment.

House picked up a file and tossed at the woman.

"Did you read this yet?" He asked.

"No, but more importantly, did _you_ read this yet?"

"No need. This woman has liver failure. End of story.

"You haven't even examined her yet!"

"Why should I examine her if Kutner already did? And besides, I have clinic duty, remember?" The doctor stood up, using his cane as a prop, and walked over to the glass door that led out to the busy hospital hallway.

"If you need me, I'll be in exam room six." House closed the door after him and turned to the left. On his way to the Patients' rooms.

"House! Wrong way!" Cuddy called after him, wondering if he already knew that. The only possible place he could be headed to was the room which his patient was occupying, or the lounge.

"Heck, he's not going to the exam room," Cuddy said, and peered over at his desk. An empty medicine bottle lay uncapped on his desk. She picked it up and read the label. "Vicodin," She sighed and tossed the bottle onto the floor.


	3. Chapter 2:

Chapter 2:

"Who are _you_?" Asked the red-haired musician.

"_I_ am Doctor House. Apparently _you_ don't know _me_."

"Why would I know you?"

"Because…oh, yes. _You_ are the world famous one, not me. That's a shame."

"What do you want with me?" She asked in a tone that was much more than surly.

"I'm going to examine you."

"But that other doctor, Doctor Kutner, already examined me. He said that I was fine."

"Now, who is the world famous one here?"

"Me." She said, crossing her arms in the bed that she lay in. She scowled.

"Oh. Right." House looked up at his forehead and pretended to smack himself in stupidity. "It should be me." He said shortly. He adjusted his face and closed the sliding door to her room. He was just stepping in when the interrogations started. House rolled over to her bedside on a rolling stool, just like the one in the exam room. He had her skinny but very important chart in her hands. He opened it up and read through the medications list.

"Accolate for athsma, Ataraz for your anxiety disorder… Do you have anxiety disorder?"

"That's what my doctor thinks."

"Well, your new doctor, me, thinks that you don't. No more of that nonsense." He pulled a pen out of his pocket and crossed out the scribbled handwriting. "Deltasone for athsma, Maxalt for your migraines, Provera for your menopause-" House looked up at the patient, who had her arms crossed over her mid-abdomen, as if shielding herself from the rude doctor's gaze. "You look too young for menopause. You are only about forty."

"The doctor told me that I was having early menopause last month when I told him I wasn't menstruating."

"Did he rule out pregnancy?" He asked, peering at the chart again, flipping through page after page, skimming through each line quickly.

"He said that he did."

"Okay, then why are you taking Colace?"

"I don't want to have to use the bathroom while performing. It ruins my concentration. Sure _you_ know what _that's_ like." She gave him a look and noted that he was seeming to be crossing his legs like he had to 'go'.

"Whatever. So you did ask your doctor before taking it, right?"

"Oh, sure. I told him all about it. He just wrote it down in the chart and that was the end of it. I take it just like he tells me. One dose twenty-four hours before being on stage."

"Great. So what's this about Valium. Don't you already take a medication for anxiety disorder?"

"Yes, but I went to another doctor once and he told me to take that too. So I do. Why, is that bad?"

"No, just wondering if the seven-hundred mg is too much for your system when you take three-hundred mg of Ataraz already." He closed the chart and rolled back over to where his cane was, propped up against the table under the television.

"So am I okay?"

"No. You might have liver failure. We just got your blood test results back. You're going to be fine." He said bluntly. "No! Of course not!" He scared her. "We're going to do a CT on your abdomen, to see how your liver is looking. Is that alright with you?" He picked up a clipboard and a pen.

"I guess,"

"Sign this." He shoved the clipboard and pen into her hands.

"Why should I?" She shoved back.

"_Sign_ this!" He prompted.

"Why?"

"Because I just told you about a procedure and _you_ have to give consent. Now, _sign this_!"

"What if I don't want to sign it?"

"You just said yes to my question! Sign it!"

"No, I said 'I guess'. And I quote!"

"Just sign the form! Do you _want_ to die?"

"No,"

"Then sign it!" House pounded his fists onto the rails of her bed, which startled her a bit. She picked up the pen, while still looking at him, and peered down to find the line with the large X on the end. She signed and handed the form back to him.

"Happy?" She pouted, no longer afraid.

"Not really, since we could have gotten the room reserved by now." The crotchety older man grabbed his cane and stood up, closing the sliding door as he left his patient's room.

000000

"I need that CT machine for tonight! We need to look at her liver!"

"No, House. There is a long line-up for that CT machine, and all the others. I can't get you a machine until late tomorrow. And even with that, there are no guarantees.

"Fine. Let me have an X-ray machine for late tonight. She won't know the difference."

"No." She refused.

"Why?" He began to yell.

"No, because you'll have to get her to sign another form, and no because that room is full too. So are all the others. From opening to closing."

"It'll take about five minutes!" He argued.

No. There is no room."

"How do you know?"

"I am looking at the schedule right now."

"No you're not. You're posting your picture to MySpace, and I assure you, nobody is going to send you theirs." Cuddy glanced up at him angrily, and then rolled her eyes in despair and turned her gaze back to h er computer screen.

House looked around Doctor Cuddy's office, glancing at every bare spot on the wall and every covered spot in the same time. He did not even care to examine any art or photos.

"So I can't even have a MRI machine for three minutes tonight?"

"What part of 'no' don't you understand, House?" She stood up abruptly and glared at him with those eyes. Those eyes…

"The 'no' part." He turned around and opened the wooden door that led out to the busy and sometimes hectic hospital building around them.

"So, what did she say?" Blonde-haired Chase was shooting him a questionable look. Was he asking, or demanding?

"She said 'no'."

"To everything? MRI, CT _and_ X-ray?"

"Yes, she did."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Just because she said 'no' doesn't mean I can't do it."

"What are you talking about?" Doctor Cameron jutted in, handing him the ever-growing chart.

"I said three minutes on the MRI. I could do it in two and a half."

"But House, maybe there isn't enough time in-between other patients for you to waste a whole set up just for two and a half minutes!"

"So? I'm a doctor too, just like Cuddy and Wilson and like you, Foreman." House said, with a surly tone. He looked up from the file towards the African-American man next to Chase.

"And what are you going to tell them when you burst into the MRI room needing a MRI machine?" Asked Chase again, crossing his arms and speaking in that soft British accent.

"I'll just tell them to wait their turn. _I_ did." House stormed off, as fast as he could with his cane, towards the West wing of the hospital. Towards the MRI machine.

"What are we going to do with him?" Asked Foreman rhetorically.

"Nothing," Cameron answered. "He's our boss, and there is nothing we can do to stop this madness that we call 'Doctor House'."


	4. Chapter 3:

Chapter 3:

Doctor House wheeled the famous patient into the cold MRI room.

"Hey! This room was reserved! We have it until two o'clock, and it's still one thirty!" A doctor yelled behind a glass screen, from which he was operating the machine. A patient fidgeted in the machine, almost totally strapped down to the bed already.

"Well, this is an emergency!" House tapped his cane on the top of the large, white machine and peeked into there.

"What are you doing? You could damage the machine!" The doctor operating the machine cried, finally sighing and giving up. He pushed the button that brought the patient back out of the machine. The loud pounding noises that had been echoing inside the machine had subsided, and the patient stopped fidgeting.

"Good. Now, Chase, help me get Miss Massé into the machine." House helped the other patient up off of the bed, and the other doctor glared at him as he did so. The patient and Massé traded, Massé climbing onto the bed, and the other patient sitting in the wheelchair that House had wheeled in.

"Good. My turn!" House limped over to the glass door and went inside the control room, lowering himself into the wheeling chair. Cameron and Chase followed after, sitting in the other chairs.

"Massé, you're going to hear some noises. Please don't be afraid," Chase said, slowly, reassuringly.

"Okay." She answered back. She sounded anxious and scared.

The two doctors began to slide her into the tunnel-like machine.

"Everything is good so far, Miss. Please keep still!" Cameron yelped, trying to get her to calm down.

"I-I'm scared!" She cried in response.

"It's okay. You'll only be in there for a minute. Hold on."

"Okay," Massé said, trying to keep herself calm.

"Nothing yet….. What's that?" Chase asked, stopping the pictures from moving once again. He pointed with his pen to a white spot in a usually-white area. Cameron leaned towards the screen to see what the other two were gawking at.

"Tumor? Cyst?" Cameron suggested, picking up the phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Forman. He knows what he's doing." She dialed the phone. "Forman, I need you down here."

Chase looked at the photos as they flicked across the screen. He had un-paused it.

"No! I am not kidding! Here, talk to Chase." Shoved the phone into Chase's hands and urged him to talk.

"Yes. Of course she's not lying. There is a mass in the brain, and you, the neurologist, can figure out what it is. Please hurry." He slammed the phone on the receiver and looked back at the screen. "There's another!" He cried out, pausing it again.

"What is it?" House asked. He peered at the speck of white on the lobe of the brain. He sat back in his chair after a minute and sighed.

"What is it?" Forman burst through the door, and through the glass door to the secluded area where the three doctors already sat.

"That's what I just said." House said tauntingly. Chase jumped out of his chair to get out of the way for Forman.

"Where is it?" Forman rewinded the photo reel and found the picture in which there was a speck.

"There." House pointed to the speck, highly visible.

"I know where it is now, House!" He grunted.

"Hey, Forman, are you alright?" Chase asked. He noted how Forman wasn't himself, and he seemed out of breath.

"Yeah. It's just that…Oh! God, my chest hurts!" He cried out in pain.

"What's happening?" They heard Massé ask from inside the machine. She sounded even more frightened.

"Nothing. Everything is fine. You're going to come out now." Cameron reassured her, pressing a button to talk and another to release her from the machine's inside.

"House," Forman gasped. "That was a spot-AH!" He gasped for air as his insides burned with pain. "In the Temporal lobe. That means it has something to do with-AHHH!" He collapsed and fell on the floor. Not convulsing, but squeezing his stomach in pain.

"What, Forman?" Chase dropped to his knees.

"Pupils dilated. House, get a stretcher! Hurry!" Cameron shoved him out of the glass room and when House had a stretcher with a nurse, she helped Forman up, who was still yelping in pain, onto the stretcher.

"We have an emergency here! Get him in a room on 4 mg of morphine IV stat!" House called, as the nurses rolled Forman out.

"You know, that Foreman has the worst luck. First we have to put him in a coma, then we have to take him out and now he's got this! Gee, I'm busy." House walked out to where Massé sat on the bed, and helped her to her feet.

"Do you even care that we have a small chance of Foreman dying? Of a famous musician dying and you being blamed for it?" Cameron hollered as they raced through the hectic hallway. House was limping as fast as he could.

"Well, if it would be my fault that she died, then why are you so worried?" House retorted.

"Because," She said, sounding ashamed.

"Because…" House asked.

"Because. You are my boss."

"Nothing else? You don't have some stupid passion for me? Some strange yearning to kiss me instead of kick me?"

"No! That's just,"

"Well, last time I checked with Chase, you were not over me yet."

"You have been asking Chase about me liking you?" She cried, glaring.

"No, but it is bound to come up in daily conversation." House chuckled.

"So discussions of my…admiration for you before is something that you discuss on a daily basis?" She stepped quickly, turning and stopping House in his tracks.

"Well, when Chase still feels for you,"

"No. Don't even start. We cleared it up. You are the one who is not yet over me. You need to get over it. Get over yourself while you're at it." She stomped away furiously to avoid any more slurred speech and argument.

00000

"So, what did the MRI show?" Asked Massé, propped up in her bed. She had a magazine in her clutches.

"It showed," Began Doctor House, as he lowered himself onto the rolling stool. He slid across the linoleum floor towards Massé, and he gripped her chart in his left hand, cane in his right hand.

"It showed…" Massé urged. She was seeming to be getting anxious.

"It showed a mass in your Temporal lobe of your brain."

"What's that?"

"It interprets the sounds you hear. It's located right here." House motioned towards the sides of his head where the lobe would be located.

"But I thought that you were going to scan my liver."

"Yes. We were, but we never made it that far down before Forman collapsed, and we found the mass before we were able to scan the liver."

"Am I going to die?" She asked, sounding frightened.

"We- we don't know."

"Oh, God." Flinging her head back against the pillow. She began to cry.

House put his hand on her arm, which was resting by the edge of the bed. The bed rails were down so that she was able to have some freedom. She sighed and sunk into her bed, dropping her magazine in her lap.

"It's not as bad as you think," House said quietly, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. He breathed in deeply, as if taking in her scent...or the scent of something.

It was then that Cameron burst into the room.

"Doctor House, we need you in your office."

"Can't you see I'm busy?" He blurted, ruining the quiet moment.

"I'm sorry, but Doctor Forman needs you. He's not looking good."

"Fine. I'll be there in a moment."

"No. You need to come right now."

Doctor House sighed, pulled himself up, and limped toward the anxious young doctor.

The anxious, young and naïve doctor.


	5. Chapter 4:

Chapter 4:

"What is it that is so important _now_?" House growled as he entered the room equipped with his whiteboard and refrigerator. He was followed by Doctor Cameron. She was rolling her eyes.

"Are you not concerned about your friend?"

"Who? Foreman? Of course not! He's not my friend." House was only joking, as he usually was, but the other doctors took it seriously.

"Then why did you take him out of that coma? Why do you stand up for him at all? You are such an impossible person to work with. No wonder it didn't work out with Lisa! You are such an immature jerk, House!"

Cameron stormed off, tears streaming down her soft cheeks.

"Okay. Who's up for coffee?" House parted the silence with another joke.

"Not funny." Doctor Taub noted. He rolled his eyes as House gave him a silent laugh, just to prove the point.

"_I_ thought it was. I thought that it would make everybody laugh."

"Yeah. Joking about your coworker not being your friend when he has a serious disease is really a gut buster." Chase stood up and picked up a familiar chart. It was Foreman's chart. It was getting thicker day by day.

"So, what did the blood tests show?" House asked, trying to forget the insult that he had made just moments before.

"Showed that Foreman has an obvious but hard-to-treat disease." Chase said, in a surly tone.

"So? What is it?"

"Read the chart!" Kutner noticed that House rarely read the charts. Plain laziness.

"Sickle cell. Okay. What are we going to do about that now?" House asked.

"We're going to treat him. Read on." Chase was in on the stunt.

"We're going to send him off to a hospice since he only has about six days to live. Duh!" Kutner joked. He tried to get his friends to laugh, but they were just too tense. Something about the atmosphere. Something about the way House was acting.

"We're going to run some more tests on him." House said, closing the chart.

"What tests? There are no more tests we could perform on him that would help us. He's got a week to live if we don't figure out how to fix it." House tossed the chart onto the long glass-topped table and went over to his whiteboard. He pulled the marker cap off of the body and wrote on the board with it.

"What are you doing?" Thirteen asked, coming into the room just then.

"Assigning a new assignment for each of you." House answered, writing down each of the doctors names. Everybody but Foreman.

"Kutner and Taub, you two will research sickle cell disease and find out what will happen to Foreman." House turned to look at the other doctors in the room.

"Okay." Taub said, gathering his coffee mug and a pad of paper which he was starting to take notes on, and Kutner followed him out of the door.

"Cameron will-"

"Cameron isn't here, remember?" Commented Kutner as he was about to close the door behind him.

"Yeah. Make sure that one of you tells her about these little assignments!" House hollered. "Cameron will work with you, Thirteen, to research treatment of sickle cell. Write down each one. There aren't many that we can do." House warned, and then motioned for Thirteen to scoot out of the room after the men with his hand.

"Alright. I'll pass along the message. But-"

"But what? Don't ask too many questions. They do nothing but confuse." House grunted, reaching for his leg. It obviously was causing him more pain than usual.

"But, why didn't you pair a girl with a boy or likewise? Do you have something against pairing opposite sexes?"

"No, it's just after I paired Cameron and Chase, it might be a bad idea to pair a woman with a man. Women make bad decisions." Once again, House ended on a sexist note. It left Thirteen gawking.

Thirteen turned and left the room, leaving himself and Chase.

"What about me?" Chase asked, twirling his pen impatiently.

"I don't know yet. I'll pair you up later."

"With whom? Nobody is left except-"

000000

"Wilson. I need to ask a favor of you." House burst into Wilson's office, interrupting a phone call.

"Yes, I'll pick you up around eight, okay? Good. See you then. Love you too." He shot a glare at House, then hung up the phone after a quick goodbye. "What?" He demanded, seeming more angry than he sounded a moment before.

"I need you to help me and my team on a case."

"Okay. Who is it? Let me see their chart."

House tossed Foreman's chart to Wilson, and watched his eyes widen.

"Foreman? Sickle cell? But we never-"

"Yes. I know. He's susceptible since he's African American-"

"I know that. I'm no stupider than you, you know!"

"No smarter either." House added quietly.

Wilson glared up at House. "I heard that!"

"Ooh! New hearing aids?"

"No, no hearing aids, but I think that maybe they would do you some good. Maybe with those you'll be able to tell that _nobody likes you_!"

"Oh, don't play that game with me." House grinned. They had been friends for quite a while. House could stop any argument any time he wanted. Sometimes, though, he opted not to.

"Fine. What do you need from me?" Wilson asked, glancing once again in amazement at the chart.

"I need you to team up with Chase to help me out."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're my friend and I would appreciate the help." House pleaded, pretending to give the 'puppy-dog-face'.

"What is in it for me?" Wilson asked. House shuffled around in his pockets.

"Twenty bucks and you get to drive my scooter when you go to pick up that girl for dinner tonight. You know, the girl that you were talking to on the phone." House grinned. He knew his friend all too well… Or so he thought.

"That," Wilson grinned. "was my mother. She hasn't seen me in weeks. I've been too busy with this oncology report. Newspapers expect you to not see your mother or do any other work but what they ask of you. Kind of like someone I know. And that is why I am declining your invitation to join Chase on your wild goose-"

"Don't call it a chase or you'll be stuck with Chase!" House grinned too, thrusting the money towards Wilson, but still not completely giving it to him.

"Fine. But don't forget. You owe me." Wilson said reluctantly.

"No I don't. You and your _lovely_ mother are riding out on my scooter tonight to Applebee's and you're going to pay for her twenty dollar kid's meal with my money." Wilson's smile turned to a frustrated frown. "Or _your_ kid's meal, if you prefer." House grinned crookedly as Wilson pushed his chair back and stood up, throwing his coat over his shoulders. House stood motionless as Wilson stepped out of his office and closed the door behind him. House grinned again.


	6. Chapter 5:

Chapter 5:

"Doctor House?" Asked Cameron. She was peering into his cold office. He turned around. He was at the window, peeking through the blinds.

"What is it?" He turned back around.

"I just wanted to say that I am sorry. I know that I sort of went off and made the tension worse. I _am_ sorry. I didn't meant to say those things-"

"Okay. Now, why _did_ you come here?" House asked. He seemed unlike himself. Less…angry.

"I came here to apologize. Did you not hear me?" Cameron asked, stepping over the threshold into House's office.

"I heard you, but that isn't the real reason for you coming here, is it?" House turned around to face her, looking her in the eyes.

"I just want to make sure that you know I am over you. That's all."

"Okay." House didn't seem to be listening.

"That's all." She repeated, trying to get House to say something. "Are you okay House?"

"I'm fine." He turned to his desk and sat down. He picked up his tennis ball and tossed it back and forth as he spun his chair around to face the window again. "It wasn't liver failure. She's got something wrong with her brain. She has a problem in her temporal lobe." He breathed slowly. In, out. In again. Out.

"Temporal lobe? There has to be something wrong with her hearing-"

"Or her perception of what she hears."

"Maybe she is unable to hear correctly."

"May be." House repeated slowly. He seemed tired.

"Are you alright, House?"

"Didn't you _just_ ask me that?"

"Yes, but you seem-"

"Yes, I know. Haven't been able to sleep for days."

"Oh. Ambien CR works great," Cameron took a stab at the mean idea. It didn't fit her.

"That drug," House said, tossing his tennis ball higher into the air. "makes the sleeping experience less full. Sleepwalking, nightmares, and anything else you could imagine going wrong in a night's sleep."

"Everything except _not_ sleeping." She prodded.

"Yes. So, Miss _Doctor_, what _else_ should I take for my insomnia?"

"A brain wash?" Cameron joked. House didn't think it was funny, though.

"Not funny." House raised his eyebrows in that way.

"Dalmane? Doral, Halcion, Prosom, Restoril, any of those could help you. Wait. Why aren't you diagnosing and treating yourself?"

"Because. I might be biased." House pushed himself onto his feet and staggered past Cameron through a glass door, and made his way over to his well-loved whiteboard.

"House, I also came here to tell you that you have clinic duty tomorrow." Cameron followed him through the doorway.

"See, I knew there was something else." House leaned on the whiteboard, reading through the list of symptoms. It was a small list. "Seizures, headaches and insomnia." House read aloud.

"But I thought that _you_ had insomnia," Cameron pointed out.

"That is what _you_ thought. You told me to take such drugs, but yet, Cuddy won't give them to Massé."

"Why?"

"Because she thinks that they'll cross-react." House rolled his eyes.

"With what?"

"Exactly." House said nothing more.

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"Good morning, Doctor…House." It was a new nurse that Cuddy had hired just a day before. She was peering at his tag. She looked up and straight into his eyes. "How are you?"

"Fine." He replied bluntly. She obviously didn't get the talk about how to talk to House.

"Have a good day!" She called as house picked up a skinny chart on the counter and limped away to exam room five.

House burst through the door and sat down on the stool.

"What are _you_ here for?" He asked, annoyed by the young nurse.

There was an older man sitting on the paper-coated bed. He had his hands neatly folded on his lap and was sitting slumped over. Quite a posture.

"You are not doctor Taub. I usually see Doctor Taub." The older man said defensively.

"No. I am Doctor House. And today, _you're_ seeing _me_." House opened the chart. "So, is _that_ why you are here?"

"No. I think I have a cold."

"What are your symptoms?" House asked, as if it was needed. The man had a handkerchief in his hand, almost dripping with snot, his nose was red like that fabled reindeer's nose and he was shivering slightly. While wearing a coat.

"Runny nose, sore throat and I'm cold. All the time." The man said. The obvious.

"Yes. You have a cold. Congratulations."

"Can you get rid of it for me? I have a wedding to attend on Saturday and I need it to be gone." The man blew his nose again. What a sound!

"Hold on," House said, fishing in his pocket. "I think I have my magic wand in here somewhere…" He looked up to the man. "Just rest and sleep. Take some vitamin C and stop expecting doctors to be able to fix everything. We can't fix global warming!"

"But-"

"But what?" House was growing irritable as he stood up. Pain shot through his leg. He pulled out his pill bottle from his jeans. Empty.

"Can't I have a prescription?"

"For what?"

"Sudafed or something to help the cold."

"You don't need one!" House stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Gee, people are getting stupider by the day." House said to the new nurse. "Some old guy wanted me to give him a script for Sudafed." House shook his head, gave the nurse the file and picked up another. "Crap." He grunted. It was an old acquaintance. Or maybe she was more than that.

"What?" The nurse had filed the chart already. Wow. She was good for a first-timer.

"I met this girl before. Rhinovirus. Then, she fell in love with me."

"And that is a bad thing?"

"She was _seventeen_! Can you say, 'creepy'?"

"Okay, but you still have to take the case."

"Why? This girl-"

"Cuddy told me to make you take it. You're doctor House, you take the case." The nurse turned around and picked up a cup of coffee. She sipped it and watched House sigh and shuffle over to one of the exam rooms.

"Suck-up." He scoffed.

"So, Miss Allie. How are you lately?" House was coming into the exam room which held a young woman with long blonde hair and a sweet smile. Too sweet.

"I'm fine. How about you, Gregory?" She asked, all too casually.

"Please. Call me Doctor House."

"Okay, _Doctor House_."

"What are you complaining of now? Your 'rhino-thing' back or something?"

"No, I just thought that you should take a look at this." She rolled up her sleeve to above her elbow to reveal a rash that looked like a series of spider bites.

"Okay. I looked at it." He growled.

"I think I have shingles. I read about it in a book-"

"A book about how _bad_ people are at diagnosing rashes?" House rolled on the stool over to the table where he had tossed her chart. It had at least six pages of mount sheets, in which her phone messages were pasted. All were for House.

"No, the book about rashes."

"Which book?" House asked, not really paying attention.

"It's called-"

"A book about _misdiagnosing_ rashes?" House tilted his read and looked up at her in that way that got her so excited. He didn't mean to do it, though. That was just the way he looked at people. "Or did you read it off of a book on the internet?

"No… And _then_ I looked it up on the internet." She added quietly.

"Ah, the truth comes out." House turned his head and faced the window looking outside. "But it's not the truth." Allie's eyes widened and her mouth opened.

"But-"

"Were you outside lately? Gone hiking, fishing…hunting?" House asked, interrupting her in mid-sentence.

"No, but I did go to the park with my little cousin the other day."

"Any bugs?" He asked.

"In the park? Of course. There are always bugs in the park."

"Then you don't have shingles. You have a confirmed case of insect-bite-us."

"Insect-What?" She asked, seeming as if she were frightened. But House knew there was nothing to be frightened of.

"Bug bites, as some people would call them." House sighed, wondering how she could dismiss bug bites as shingles.

"But the internet-"

"Lies. I know." House grinned to himself, writing on a sheet in her chart.

"I guess so," She grinned and stalked toward Gregory House in that way that got her into trouble before. She leaned against the wall in his view and smiled.

House looked up through his eyebrows and continued writing. When he had closed the chart, he pulled a pad of paper out of his pocket. For once, he was wearing his lab coat with the big pockets. He scribbled a note onto it and tore the page off. Handing it to her, he told her to rub some itch cream on it. He stuffed the pad of paper back into his pocket and noticed that the young patient had moved even closer to him.

"What kind of cream should I use? She asked slowly. It freaked House out, but also seemed to amuse him. This young eighteen year old girl was flirting with a middle-aged ornery doctor that most women (and people in general, for that matter) would rather slap.

"Probably the one that they sell in drug stores would work the best." He backed away from her, opening the door. "At least, better than the cream you'll try to buy on the _Internet_." He added, stepping out the door and closing it loudly behind him.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

"Thank _God_ that's over!" House said, slipping into his chair in his office. He picked up the tennis ball and turned toward his team of doctors.

"Massé wants to listen to music." Cameron said, bursting in the door that very minute. She held a stack of CDs in her hands, taller than her arms were long. "And I don't know which one to choose." She dropped the stack on the glass desk. She pulled on her sleeves so that the cuffs were on her wrists where they were meant to be. The CDs had pushed them up.

"Why don't you just give them all to her?" Chase asked, standing in the row of doctors. Cameron stepped back into the line.

"Good idea. I guess that the fact that there isn't enough room in that whole wing for her to store them until she can listen to them is irrelevant."

"You're tired. You're not thinking right. Go ask her what genre she likes, her favorite artist, and then you have your CD." House rolled his eyes. He was right about Cameron being tired. She had been up all night pulling CDs out of shelves in her house.

"Just give her a CD. She'll listen to anything." Foreman said, not thinking.

"No she won't. She just can't wait until she can slam another person. You would liker her, House." Cameron was irritable, but telling the truth.

"Massé feels that she is better than everyone else. Just because she can play two instruments."

"She can, and she does it well." Chase said, nodding his head to the side, as if thinking.

"But not at the same time." House said, seeming to have thought of something.

"So? Nobody can." Chase said. He stepped out of the line, towards House. He put his hands on the desk in front of him. "So you're thinking that Massé is going to sprout another set of arms so that she can play both?" Chase demanded.

"No. That's just stupid." House stood up and walked through the hole in the line that Chase left by moving.

"Where is he going now?" Chase asked, to nobody in particular.

000000

"So, Miss Massé. Can you play this for me?" House asked, handing her a cheap violin that he had taken from a nurse's locker.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, scoffing at the lousy instrument.

"I'll tell you after you answer this: Who brings a violin to a hospital to work?" Massé stayed silent. "In their right mind, I mean." House shoved the violin into her hands, and she sat up in her bed, shifting herself so that she had enough room to play.

"Fine. Beethoven or Bach?" She asked, as she propped the bow against the strings. She began to place her left hand on the neck of the violin, and began playing. Her hand would tremor on the strings, making the most beautiful noise. A lingering note, that faded and came back as the other notes played on. She really _was_ good.

She went up and down the scale. Her heart rate climbed as well. House could tell by the machine that began to beep faster and faster.

The scale grew louder and louder, then seemed to stop, but he could still hear it. It was very faint, but he could tell that the notes were going up the scale once more. Flat, natural. F sharp, even higher. Into the second octave. High C. She moved both of her hands faster simultaneously, and her heart rate moved along with it.

Up and up it went. In increments. High E, High G and even up to the C above high C. Above that, the tune went up past the F. She hung on the F Sharp, then up to the A. As soon as she hit the high A flat, her body shook like her fingers on the neck of the violin.

"She's seizing!" Cried house. House hobbled over to the crash cart and pulled out a syringe full of Valium.

"What are you giving her?" Cried one of the nurses.

"What? Are you afraid I started the seizure? Please." The nurse glared at him. "I'm giving her ten mg of Valium. It'll stop her seizure." He said, pushing the medicine into the IV stream. A moment later, the musician had stopped shaking, but was lying atop a crushed violin. "What? Didn't you go to med school?" He glared at the nurse who had asked such a stupid question. The syringe was a special color that indicated that it was Valium. Duh!

"Is this my violin?" Asked another nurse. It was the new nurse that House had met in the clinic.

"Oh, is that whose it was? I was wondering about it."

"I heard someone playing earlier. Did you play that?"

"No. The patient played it. Now, out."

House ushered the new nurse out and sat down on a chair next to the bed. He waited for Massé to open her eyes so she could talk.

But House grew bored after only three minutes of waiting.

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"Wha- what happened?" Massé was waking up.

"You had a seizure. You're going to be okay." Chase was the one to respond. House had left a long time ago. He had other things to do…. Or, he said he did, at least.

"I had a seizure? No, that can't be. Where's that violin? I was playing it just a minute ago," She sat up in her bed, but Chase pushed her back down.

"Yes, you were seizing when I got in here. Just lay down, okay?" He sounded frustrated.

"Well, then where is doctor House?" She looked around the room, apparently for House.

"He went back to his office."

"Get him here for me!" She yelped. She glared at Chase and he nodded as he backed away.

"Okay… I'll be right back." He nodded to the nurses as if it were a secret code, and turned to leave the room.

"House," Chase said, wary of the grumpy doctor sitting in his chair. Chase opened the door wider and stepped through the door.

"What?" House asked. He was on his computer, typing on the keyboard.

"Massé wants to see you," Chase said, stepping closer to the desk. He was curious about what House was doing on the computer.

"Well, bring her in here," House replied smartly.

"But she just had a seizure," Chase said, peeking over House's shoulder to see what was on the screen. House reached up to the monitor and pushed the off button before Chase could crane his neck far enough to peek. The screen went black.

"Then I guess I have to go see her," House pushed himself up with his cane, hobbled over to the door, and held it open for Chase. Chase sighed, disappointed, and went through the door. We wanted to see what House was doing.

"Well, what did you find out about Massé?" Chase asked

"I found out that she can play the violin," House said. He didn't seem to really be listening. He seemed in a daze.

"And?"

"And that her music is killing her." He said. Now he was listening.

"How?"

"Stop asking stupid questions, Chase. Ask some good questions for once!" House growled. He got into the elevator, Chase following close behind, and pushed the button to bring him to the floor that Massé was on.

"Okay, then what was it that made her seize?" Chase asked as the elevator lurched.

"Now you're talking!" House encouraged. Chase was a bit confused. "She can't play her music anymore." He said.

"Why? I mean- why can't she play?"

"Because she'll seize!" House hobbled through the door to the hallway. Chase hadn't even noticed that the elevator had stopped moving.

"But what if it's just the violin?" Chase hit the spot. House turned quickly and thought for a moment.

"Okay. Now where can I get a saxophone?" House turned back around and entered her room.

"House," Massé said, sounding relieved. She sat back in her bed, and sighed.

"What? Did you think that you were going to die if I didn't show up in ten minutes?" House pulled up a stool and looked around the room. Lisa Cuddy and Doctor Cameron were standing around the bed, along with a young child that House hadn't seen before.

"Hugh, this is Doctor House. He's going to make me be all better," Massé said to the little child who must have been her son… or some sort of relative.

"Oh, you don't know that. I could just make you seize again and not let you get better. Who knows, I might leave without even saying 'hello'." House stood up and made his way over to the little boy. He looked frightened.

Then the beepers went off.

_Beep! Beep beep! Chirp chirp beep!_ The doctors pulled their pagers and beepers off of their belts and raced out of the room. House, the slowest of all, was caught by the woman.

"What's going on?"

"My little prediction just came true. I'm not even going to greet your son." House raced out of the room. Well, raced as fast as he could.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

"Foreman's in pain!" Cameron cried as House entered the room. He hobbled over to the bedside where Cameron, Wilson and Taub stood over Foreman. Foreman was in the fetal position, grabbing his knee.

"House, it's - sickle - cell!" Foreman yelped in-between gasps for air. He was in serious pain.

"Where does it hurt?" House asked, pushing his way through the small crowd of doctors. It was a crowd in that tiny room, but wouldn't be considered a crowd in a mall. More like a posse.

"In my joints – my knee. The other day it was my abdomen-" Foreman was feeling a large, strong burst of pain. House could tell by the way he was holding himself.

While House seemed to not even acknowledge that it was Foreman, Cameron seemed utterly concerned.

"Give him Morphine," She urged. "House! Give him Morphine. Do you hear me?" She was almost screeching.

"But he's on the maximum dose right now. Any more and it could kill him!" Taub jutted. He seemed to have shoved Cameron's idea out of the way, but House was not done joking around.

"Yup. It's sickle cell. Good job diagnosing, Foreman." House said, as if encouraging a young child.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Wilson asked, seeming worried.

"Lets see what the little doctors came up with." House gazed at Cameron and then nodded. "Give him his dose of Morphine, and then meet me in my office." House ordered, and Cameron obeyed. She jogged to the 'crash cart' and pulled out a syringe of Morphine. She pushed it into his IV tube, and a moment later, House was out the door and out of site, and Foreman began to stop holding his legs. He finally aborted the fetal position and lay back down in the regular posture for a human being to lie in. Cameron said her 'goodbye-and-you'll-get-better-soon' story that she gave every patient, and raced out the doorway to catch up with the rest of the team.

000000

"What'd I miss?" Cameron burst through the door to the 'meeting room' and threw herself into the only empty chair, since Wilson had taken Foreman's.

"Not much. We're just going over what each of the "teams" found. We barely started." Wilson said, air-quoting 'teams'

"What did you do? Run here?" House butted in. He tended to do that.

"Yes, since you made it sound so _urgent_ that I get here as soon as possible." Cameron retorted. She was getting good at House's game. The game in which words and the way they were said was everything.

"Well, then. We already got through with Chase and Wilson's group. They reported that-" Taub said, but he was cut off by Thirteen.

"That Foreman's Sickle cell anemia is not genetic. Neither of his parents or his sets of grandparents had the trait. There's something else." Thirteen said. She was sitting next to Cameron, but Cameron hadn't really noticed her there. It was like Cameron was to busy fighting with House to notice her.

"Okay. Then I guess we should go next," Kutner said, noting that the other team was finished 'reporting'. "We found that the next step in SS is more pain, until the patient dies. We have no idea how far along Foreman is. Unless you want us to keep pricking him with needles and taking samples every day to see where his hemoglobin levels are and other chemical stuff that we can't see just by looking at him."

"Why can't we see it just by looking at him? We can detect liver failure," House joked.

"Because this is miniscule, doesn't make the eyes turn yellow or do anything to the skin…I think…" Kutner said. He didn't seem so sure of himself, though.

"Well, he hasn't been screaming in pain _before_, so it must have just started showing signs. It must not be _that_ far along." Cameron said assertively. She always did that.

"Actually, he did. Not bursts of pain though. Last week I went to lunch with him. Just two colleagues having lunch in that hospital cafeteria together, but I noticed that his hands seemed swollen, and halfway through the lunch break, he said that he didn't feel well. I just figured that he had to use the bathroom, but now that I think of it, he seemed like he was… _nauseous_." Taub said.

"A symptom of SS. Nausea and vomiting, along with swollen feet, hands and joints. Did he seem achy, or just sick to his stomach?" Thirteen asked. She seemed curious. "And how much did he eat? Did he seem to not be hungry?"

"I don't know. I really wasn't paying attention to his food. He looked sick, though." Taub shrugged, and looked toward House, who was tapping his cane on the whiteboard.

"Anyone care to write it?" he asked.

"Why don't you?" Kutner retorted.

"Can't you see I'm a cripple?" House was House. There was nothing that could be done. He nodded toward Thirteen, and she responded reluctantly.

Thirteen sighed and stood up, pushing in her chair sloppily. She walked over to the board and pulled the cap off the marker, scribbling on the board as fast as she could.

It was barely legible.

_Symptoms:_

_Pain in joints, abdomen, long bones._

_Vomiting nausea loss in appetite. _

_Swollen feet, hands and joints._

_Fever and fatigue._

It was House's turn to take a stab at someone.

"Nice job, but can you please write neater?"

"Yes. Next time." She capped the marker and went back to her seat.

"Now, what did you find, misses Cameron and Thirteen?" House asked.

"What our research showed was that Sickle Cell anemia can be treated by blood transfusions, hydration during pain and anti-inflammatory drugs such as analgesics. Iron supplements are only for iron deficiency, but we can use Oxycodone. There's tons of crap we could do to treat him, you know. You were wrong." Thirteen smiled smugly and Cameron jutted in.

"Yeah. Like Folic acid or Propoxyphene." She rolled her eyes as House motioned for her to get up and write on the board.

"What did you find about blood transfusions?" Kutner asked.

"We found that the transfusions were to keep hemoglobin levels below thirty per cent." Cameron said. She turned from the board to face Kutner and he nodded in contempt. She turned back around to finish writing.

_Treatment:_

_Oxycodone_

_Iron supplements ONLY for deficiency_

_Blood transfusions (hemoglobin 30%)_

_Folic acid_

_Anti-inflammatory_

_Propoxyphene_

"Nice job! Beautiful compared to Thirteen." House said as if he were praising a sibling when the other did something wrong. Cameron didn't seem happy though. She could sense Thirteen's angst. She obviously didn't like being singled out. Especially in a bad or negative way.

"So. That's it… Wait. What did you find out about tests?" House asked.

"You didn't assign that, did you?"

"No, but you guys should have found something on it while researching the other stuff." House paced slowly, taking time to limp as he walked back and forth from the whiteboard to the window. It was raining out.

"Well, I saw something that said that we should do a blood smear on him. If the platelet counts are elevated, we know for sure that it is SS." Cameron said.

"If they aren't elevated?" Kutner asked.

"Then it could be iron deficiency, Thalassemia or other anemias. We have to do the tests."

"Okay. What other tests could we do?" Taub asked. House was surprised that he didn't know.

"We can test for elevated WBCs. That would indicate infection. SS patients are more susceptible to infections." Thirteen added.

"Yes. Just like African Americans are more susceptible to SS. Now. Is there anything else we can do on him?" House growled. He was still pacing.

"Decreased protein C or protein S means sickle cell. If he has low protein levels then he's got it."

"Or he forgot to take his vitamins this morning," House said.

"If he has abnormal amounts of hemoglobins A2 and F, he could have Thalassemia." Cameron reported, trying not to let House's joke get in the way of doing her job.

"Alright. Let Cuddy know about the tests and then run them. No matter what she says." House growled. He motioned for the doctors to leave But they didn't move. "Disperse." He ordered jokingly. They didn't budge.

"But what if she says 'no'? We can't run the tests if she says no."

"Get Foreman's consent." House said.

"But-"

"Just do it!" House yelled. The doctors finally gathered their lab coats and made their way out of the room. House was left staring out of the rain-streaked window. He spotted a young girl with blonde hair getting out of her car and running through the parking lot towards the entrance to the clinic.

"Oh, _no_." He said under his breath.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

"Run a test for iron levels." House said as he passed the room where Massé was being treated. He didn't take the time to stop in. He had more important things to do.

He walked, as fast as he could hobble, down to the nurses' station in the clinic.

"Do _not_ let a young, blonde girl in here, okay?" He growled at the new nurse, who just kept on doing what she was doing in the first place.

"Why?" Was her smart remark.

"Because she's got a fetish for older men. Keep her out." He turned to walk away, but spun right around. "And if she asks for Doctor Gregory House, give her my pager number. It's 13865, okay?" House turned once more and grinned secretly to himself. Muahaha.

A few minutes passed, which soon turned to hours. House found himself in his office, in front of the computer once more, on that site that kept him so amused. He had lost track of time about...an hour and a half ago.

His pager vibrated and he jumped to get it. He had been sitting on it the whole time. The back pocket of his jeans was his favorite place to keep his pager. He pulled it out like a pro and read the screen.

It said: _Mass__é__ is in arrest. Room 2564. _It was from Cameron.

House jumped up as fast as he could, seeing that he was a so-called cripple, and lumbered over to the coat hanger that stood next to the glass door. He pulled his lab coat on and opened the door to let himself out, letting it shut closed on its own.

It never did.

Chase ran by House's office, and stopped short when he saw the computer screen on and the door wide open. He was far too nosy. He slipped inside.

"It won't matter if I stop in for just a second," He whispered to himself.

He ran over to the computer screen.

It was set on a picture of a girl. She was pretty. Blonde hair that was pretty long, and shiny. Eyes that gleamed like topaz, and a smile that seemed to be beckoning. Creepy. She was only, what? In her teens or something. What did House want to do with this girl? Why was he looking at her profile on MySpace?

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"Get the paddles!" Chase cried as Massé lay still in her bed. The EKG machine was beeping as the heart rate that was being measured fell steadily. 55, 52, 40, 47, 44, 41, 30...

Normal heart rate was around seventy.  
Cameron pulled the paddles off of the crash cart and handed them to Chase. She lubricated them and Chase cried out. "Charging! Clear!" Everyone around the patient stepped back, removing all metal equipment from their hands. Chase pressed the paddles down on Massé and she was jolted from the shock. The heart rate rose and then fell again. "Again! Charging! Clear!" Again she was shocked, and this time, the heart rate rose a little farther.

"More lubricant!" Cameron squeezed the tube of lubricant on the paddles, Chase rubbed them together, and cried out once more. "Charging! Clear!" This time he didn't really yell it though. Everyone was standing far away, staring in awe. A famous musician was about to die in front of their eyes.

"She's stable!" Cameron reported. House was standing nearby, in what seemed to be a darker part of the room. When he stepped out of the shadows, he turned heads.

"It's not liver failure." House said. "It's something wrong with the brain. What was she doing before she crashed?" He asked, glancing around the crowded room.

"She was listening to music. I was here, talking to her about what we found. The spot, I mean. In her brain." Cameron piped.

"What kind of music?" House asked suddenly.

"Classical. It was really high. So high that I thought that my ear drums were going to explode." House began to wonder.

"Give me the CD." House ordered.

Cameron reached for the CD player that was hooked up to a speaker. She pushed the eject button, and the CD came out. It was chamber string music. She haded it to House.

"What? No case?" House turned around and headed back to his office.

000000

House was sitting in his chair, listening to the CD that Cameron gave him. It was very high. He was getting a headache. He popped open a medicine bottle, and shook it upside down until three vikoden came out. He threw them in his mouth expertly and didn't even care to wash them down with anything to drink.

It was _super_ high, actually. THEN! House got it! He realized the connection! It was that very same note that she began to sieze before on. She had been playing the violin at that time. He realized htat he had to talk to Cuddy. PRONTO!

"Lisa," He said urgently. "I need you to get down here as fast as you can."

"Why?" Was her ornery response.

"Because you can run faster than me." House hung up the phone and closed his eyes to listen to the high pitched notes dance around the room. He waited like that for only about a minute until he heard his glass door open. How he did, I have no idea. But he did. His eyes flew open and he looked Cuddy straight in the eyes immediatley. He staggered to get himself on his feet. Lisa didn't do much to help him up. He snatched his cane from where it was leaning against the side of his desk and hobbled past Lisa.

"Why did you order me down here? So you could have someone see you leave?" She bit her tounge when she saw House turn around with this wicked smile on his face.

"No. I have the answer."

"To what?"

"The reason for living." House joked sarcastically. "No, the reason that Massé is having seizures. It's her music."

"We went over this before. We ruled out music-"

"But what part of the music?" House tested as he began to walk. Cuddy followed, replying.

"All of it-" Again she was cut off by the all-too-smart-doctor.

"Ah, do you even play music?" House began to test her patience. And knowledge.

"Well,"

"The recorder doesn't count." House said. That shut Cuddy up for a moment. "Alright. The pitch matters, now doesn't it? She began to seize at what part of the concert?"

"The part where the instruments went higher in pitch until it was almost deafening."

"Exactly. Since you don't play any music-besides the recorder-you wouldn't be able to tell me what note it was on when she began to seize. Anyway, I can tell you that it was the rarely used high-high-high E-flat."

"What?"

"Exactly. I knew that you had no musical history or knowledge."

"So? That made no sence!"

"To you maybe. Maredeth will know what I am talking about."

"You, you read her chart!"

"Of course. Good doctors read charts." House had reached the elevator. He punched the button for the correct floor when Cuddy had made her way into the elevator.

They entered the musician's room together, and thanked God above that the doorway was wide enough so they didn't have to touch eachother. Neither of them were in a good mood. Neaither was Maredeth.

"Oh, what do you want _now_?" She wailed.

House hit the CD player with his cane, knocking it to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving your life." House hobbled over to her rental violin. He broke a string. The highest string on it.

"I'll have to pay for that now!" She sat upright in her bed. The uncomfortable lumpy thing that doctors call a bed.

"That, or you can pay for brain surgery. Or open heart surgery."

"What are you trying to prove, House?" Cuddy whispered in his ear. His hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stood on end.

"Ira Gershwin once said that a song without music is a lot like H2 without the O. But what is a woman without music?" House turned to look at Maredeth, who was sitting in her bed still, prone and angry. What did this moronic doctor want? What was he getting at? Was she going to die without music?"

"Apparently, she's pretty healthy." House surprised her. Music was killing her?

"Music is killing me?"

"Yes." House kept his face straight. "But not all of it. Have you ever played a high high high E-flat?"

"Only in one piece." She said.

"Have you ever listened to any pieces with that note in them other than the one that you were playing?"

"No. Just that one."

"Then only one piece is killing you." House turned and took in a deep breath to begin to explain his diagnosis. This was going to take a while...


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

"How can this be?" Was all Maredeth coulde utter. She gaped at House's unshaven face and began to cry. Music was all she had.

"Well, your temporal lobe didn't develop right, so that leaves you unable to play any music with that particular note in it." House explained for the third time.

"It's no problem unless if I play a high high high E-flat?"

"Correct. All you have to do is stay away from that note. You'll be fine."

"Okay," Maredeth sniffled, reached for the tissue box and plucked a kleenex out. She blew her nose daintily.

"Okay. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go."

House got up off of the rolling stool that he had been sitting on, he grabbed his cane and made his way out of the room. When he was out of sight, Maredeth spoke.

"You know, besides being an ornery ass, he's not so bad looking." Cuddy's eyes widened. How did she know?

000000

House was on the computer once more. He was on the Internet, of course. He had been on it before during the day, but only for a minute.

He clicked on the link.

'_Thank you for your purchase. It will arrive to your home in one to two business days._' Read the screen. He sighed. He wanted it _now_! Then he heard a knock on the glass door.

"Where were you?" House growled. Chase came through the door.

"I had a break today, remember? It's Saturday."

"It's Saturday?" House cried loudly. "Now I will have to wait four days!" He spun around in his swivel chair and pushed the power button on the computer monitor, turning it off so Chase couldn't see. He would have been embarrased.

"Yes, its Saturday! I heard you solved the case. Music, huh?"

"Yup. No thanks to you guys. Where was Foreman?"

"Uh, getting a blood transfusion!" Chase began to think that House was losing it.

"Oh, I forgot." Something must have been filling his mind for the past three days.

"Yes, you did. I called Cameron, she knows about the case. She just doesn't believe me. And Wilson is on his way. He was visiting his mother."

House tried not to laugh. He couldn't let anyone see him laugh.


	11. Epilogue

Chapter 10: Epilogue:

"Your coat, Lisa?" House asked, reaching for her coat. It was the most elegant coat he's ever seen her wear.

"Oh, thanks, Gregory." He was getting vibes from her. She handed him her faux fur coat (She would NEVER wear real fur) and settled down in a seat in the concert hall. They were one of the first people in the hall. They were in the front zone of the hall, five rows up from the stage. They could see her face clearly when she entered the stage. But that was a long way then. They had about fifteen minutes until the lights would dim and the music would dance around the hall once more. They sat next to each other, Cuddy trying to compose herself so that she didn't go wild in front of many people. They filed in from all three double-swing doors around the long hall that Maredeth once walked down herself. Before she was sickened by a single music note.

"You know, Greg," She began, taking a daring breath. "I really... How do I work this..." House could tell what she wanted to say. " I just-" She leaned in to kiss him passionately. They kissed for what seemed for ages, but was only a few seconds. They parted finally and looked at each other kindly. Then Cuddy's face made the scariest expression that House had ever seen. She tapped House on the leg to signal that he should look behind him. When he did, he was greeted with the scariest face ever. It was Allie.

"What are you doing here?" House asked.

"I came to see you."

"You bought tickets to see me?" He asked.

"Yes, but I guess that you bought tickets for her to see you!" She began to sob. House stood up and Cuddy followed suit.

"I don't think that he did that yo hurt you, Allie," Cuddy prompted. She elbowed the doctor carefully, as if to get him to speak. But he didn't have the chance.

"You sick-" She kicked his leg hard and ran off out of the auditorium.

"Well, that was easy..." House sat back down and Cuddy smiled.

"At least she won't be bothering you anymore. And what is this that Wilson got a page from her anyway?"

"Uh, nothing." He smiled and looked around. The hall was almost full to capacity. And the lights were being dimmed.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Cried a man, who was coming onto stage. "Please turn off all pagers, cell phones and electronic devices. No video taping or cameras until after the performance. Please no flash photography at any time tonight and thank you for your cooperation." The lights were fully down and you could hear the screeching of chairs and the scuttling of feet as musicians and their instruments came onto the stage. The lights came back up near the stage when all the scuffing had finished.

Maredeth sat in the front row, her violin in hand. She smiled and her teeth reflected the strong follow lights that shone on the stage like moonlight on a pond. She began to play, and the rest of this lights came up slowly on the stage. The cellist began to pluck the strings and then the French horns blew out a long note, and then it faded. It was so beautiful. Lisa laid her head on Gregory's shoulder and they closed their eyes listening to the sounds of the orchestra. And their most complicated patient ever.

000000

Applause rounded around the hall. People stood up, people took photos (Flash photography, of course. Nobody ever listened to those folks...) and people whistled. Then Massé stood up for her applause. She thought for a minute silently, and then reached over to the rest of the row, took the hands of the people next to her and raised them, creating a chain of musicians, with her in the middle. They all bowed together and she even applauded for the rest of the orchestra.

"It's amazing what it can do to you when you have your life threatened." House said over the applause. He wasn't sure if Lisa heard him, and he didn't care.

A/N: HOPE YOU ENJOYED! This is the last chapter of my House M.D story, Crazy Music. Please R+R and I may (MAY) write another based on this one if you guys liked it that much.

I would like to thank my best friend 'Liss'. She is a great support, and I want to thank her for reading my story, even though she had never seen House M.D before. Thanks Andi-Rah, for reviewing about a THOUSand times. And thanks EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! Even those who I deleted because they were swearing off their heads... Anyway, thanks for even reading this. Give yourself a pat on the back!

THANKS AGAIN TO ALL WHO REVIEWED AND CONTRIBUTED!!!


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